@Cello@The Irish Tree@Eisenhorn@TGM

The day was hot, just like every day in the wastes. The noonday sun blazes over a lone scrapyard situated just outside of the city walls of Vacuo, heat waves rising off the scalding metal like writhing serpents. Men and women walk past the heaping piles of sheet metal, burned-out vehicles, and even a few desiccated robotics that stand as the remnants of Atlesian control of the area, completely stripped of useful parts but kept around as a sort of reminder.

Well, that and stress relief, if the numerous dents, scuffs, and holes in the frames were anything to go by.

At this time of day, the yard workers would usually be heading to the lunch hall in the center of the yard to take a load off and enjoy a meal in the relatively cool interior, but today was a bit different. Many were taking their meals outside, sitting amongst the scrap and debris to surround a medium-sized clearing of sand, muttering amongst each other as they all focused their attention on the five figures in the middle of the clearing. More than a few bets were being placed, and they were clearly eager for some kind of show to begin.

The oldest of the five figures sat on a gilded scrap heap of a motorbike, icy blue eyes burrowing into each of the 4 students before him as he took the time to slowly, methodically light a cigarette. He was dressed as one would expect of a Vacuan, practical travel clothes covered in stitching and patches that spoke of a storied history of breaks, tears, and damage. The most decorative thing about it seemed to be the lines of green that swirl around the base of his pants, seeming to shimmer just so, though it could easily just be a trick of the light. It was only after a long inhale, followed by a derisive sigh of smoke and frustration that the man decides to speak up, having been silent and judgemental the whole way to this scrapyard.

“So. . . this is what gets past the Huntsmen exams these days, huh?” A question he didn’t bother waiting for a response to, dismounting his ride with a huff as he took another quick drag. “Honestly, I thought Theodore had a better reason to force me into babysitting than this. . . but oh well. Boss gives an order, and I’m not eager to get hit with that right hook of his for not following it through.”

“That said, Is till want to get a good idea of what kind of workload I have to deal with in getting you lot into proper shape.” Walking past the group, he approaches one of the scrap piles along the edge of the clearing, shifting around the rusted metal bits until he found what he was looking for: a bit of pipe, about a foot and a half in length and somewhat flattened towards one end. He gives it a few practice swings, testing the weight a bit before seeming to nod in satisfaction. “To that end, I’ve come up with a couple of tests. But before that, I guess we should start attaching names to faces. And do pay attention, because the people at your side are going to be watching your back. No matter how tough you think you are, no Huntsmen can stand alone forever. We have a special term in Shade for those who try it: Dead.”

Turning back around with the pipe slung over his shoulder, taking one final drag from the cigarette before flicking it onto the ground in front of him.

“Name’s Auron, but you all will call me nothing but Sir or Overseer until you prove yourselves a bit.” As he spoke, the older man began to crack a smile, a thin grin that showed little in the way of warmth but plenty of eagerness for what was to come. “Be prepared to hate me for the next year of your life, and likely for a decent amount of time after that as well, I’d wager. And as for your first test: as you introduce yourself, I want you to come at me with all you got. Let me see what I’m working with before we move onto the main event."

---

Nivea Lanatae

@Asura@WXer@datadogie@Hero

The day was hot, just like every day in the wastes. As it beat down relentlessly on the desert plains, however, a small cloud of dust could be seen traveling across it, An open-top jeep cruising along a poorly defined dirt road. At its wheel, a young woman dressed in a strangely pristine white dress spun through with designs of red, light blue, and green. It was clearly made of materials finer than most of her passengers expected a Vacuan Huntress to wear, just as Nivea was likely a nicer Overseer than they had likely expected from the rumors of other students and citizens. With light blonde, hair and sky blue eyes, the woman didn’t seem that much older than the students she had been assigned. Likely feeling their gaze on her, the Huntress turns to offer the three students in the back a warm, if apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry, you all won’t have to stay all squished in the back like that for much longer. 10, 15 minutes tops I promise.” Turning her attention back to the road, after a quick check on her scroll that they were still on course to their destination, Nivea takes a moment to take a deep breath before speaking up again. Mainly to break the somewhat awkward silence, it would seem. “So, since we’ve got some time to kill. . . let’s all try to get properly acquainted, yeah? I kinda had to rush you all on since this jeep is a rental so you didn’t get to give out your names.”

“We’ll keep it simple, just give your name and something you consider to be an interesting fact about yourself. I’ll even start us off, just so no one feels too pressured.” Tapping a finger against the wheel, Nivea took a few moments to think before nodding to herself as she seemed to think of something. “As I told you guys when I picked up, my name is Nivea Lanatae. I’ve been a Huntress for about 4 years or so, and I’m the youngest to ever be granted the position of Overseer. And as a bit of an extra fact, while I was born in Vacuo, my parents are both from Vale originally. I know that I don’t quite look the part of a local, but this is my home and just because I take after my family a bit more, doesn’t mean I love it any less, harsh as it may be at times.”

“So, that’s me. Anyone else want to volunteer?” She cast a glance towards the student sitting across from her in the front, softly prodding them with a look to open up a bit with their fellows. “Teamwork is an important part of a Huntsmen’s life, so it’s best you start getting to know each other sooner rather than later.”

---

"Well this is just splendid, day one and already getting into a scrap. In a scrapyard no less, how fitting!" The faunus seemed far more pleased with the realization that his words made plainly clear, a loose grin resting on his face as crystal blue eyes scanned their surroundings first, before meeting the icy counterparts resting in that noggin of their overseer. Sir or overseer until proven, well that was no fun at all. Of course, during his scanning and bemused thoughts, the solitary lady of the four stepped forward, introducing herself as well as where she was from, while questioning whether or not they were all supposed to attack at once, or one at a time. Well, that left him with a wonderful opening to simply make his own move then, since she seemed determined to talk in spite of the figurative gauntlet thrown down. His own rather haphazard upbringing and training might show, but hell, what was learning without a few hard knocks along the way? He stretched while chattering as they would soon to find was the normal for him, remarking on her question as he reached behind him, apparently stretching still.

"Way I see it Shortstop, either way this should be a good showing. And after its all said and done, imagine if he had a real weapon. Name's Veloce Argenti, by the by, I'm sure we'll all just get along nice and swimmingly." With that, rather than wait for an answer on one by one versus as a group, the Raven faunus launched himself forward, the apparent stretch really having been to arm himself, metallic gauntlet over his left hand and forearm catching light as readily as the gladius in his right, using his wings and a touch of his Semblance to launch himself forward fast and low and cover ground faster than he could have simply running. He would be lunging with his sword while keeping half an eye on the pipe, though his focus would be on pressing the assault as much as possible, meaning that he would be putting that gauntlet to good use should an opening present itself. If they were meant to fight as a group, well, given Shortstop was flashing her guns, he could argue it would create an opening for her to open fire. Of course he couldn't keep his mouth shut as he launched forward, as was his want in life.

"Let's see how much hate we'll really need!"

---

Rio Redcliffe was no stranger to a scorching trek across the forsaken trails of the Vacuan desert wastes. While this might sound like hell to most sane people, this was actually the leisure highlight of Rio's yearly summer camping trip with his extended family. However, this time was different. Treading on the dusty roads with an all-terrain jeep had given the country bumpkin motion sickness, seeing as this was among the handful of times he had been in a car. The assurance that it would only be a few more minutes until they reached their destination did ease his queasiness, though he was still glad that he had taken the rightmost seat of this open air vehicle in case he had an... emergency. Other than that though, Rio had been used to being crammed shoulder to shoulder into the back of a cart along with his cousins like a tin of sardines as his family ventured into the city market to sell produce every other fortnight. At least his teammates had the decency to use washing detergent moreso than his kin.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing Rio had noticed about his teammates and his accompanying Overseer. How a raucous brute like him got chosen to be among those seemingly more refined was quite the mystery. As Nivea spoke and encouraged the rest to speak, an opportunity to lift that shrouded veil soon presented itself. Soon after their chaperone had finished her introduction, Rio cleared his airways with a brief cough before speaking about himself.

"Ahem. S'rry about that, name's Rio Redcliffe." he would state, taking a quick glance at each of his teammates' faces before continuing on. "Like miss Lanatae, my family emigrated from one of the other kingdoms, in this case Mistral. How-ever, I'm as Vacuan as sand-spiced sarsaparilla on a scorching sunburner like t'day as I've been here all my life. It's a pleasure to make y'alls acquaintance." He had hope his earnest introduction had made a good impression on his team. After all, they were gonna look after each other from here on in.

---

The heat was hard to bear. Back home in Vale, a particularly bothersome day in terms of temperature would have individuals cowering under the shade in order to protect themselves from the harsh sun and it's boiling warmth, and could be safe in a nice air conditioned room, at the perfect temperature for the patrons. Even then, a little heat was nice sometimes, and the sun paired with a nice blue sky made for a gorgeous day, particularly when seen over ocean and it's waves as they crashed against Vale's harbour.

Now, Saffron was begging for the sun to go away. A cold day in Vacuo would perhaps have been candidate for the hottest day in Vale, and the sand definitely didn't help things. Yet, Saffron was enjoying her time in Vacuo so far. Whilst it was boiling hot, and not exactly the most advanced of places (or civilised, for that matter), it was a welcome change from the monotony that home had presented itself as being. Vale had been too simple, too well structured. The unique structure of Vacuo interested Saffron in the fact that the structure barely existed in formality, yet the system was present. The other advantage was the lack of contact with her parents - she could tell them that she was out in the sticks and didn't have signal, even if she did enter proximity to Vacuo's CCT, just to avoid their messages. Saffron did miss them a little bit, but part of the reason why she had come to Vacuo was to get away from them, something which she was succeeding at.

Saffron's thoughts were soon interrupted by the Team's overseer. The information that the drive was going to be ending soon was a double edged sword - whilst Saffron would be glad not to be squished together in the back with her teammates (causing jealousy of Fiona's front seat position), the driving at least provided some respite from the heat in that she could lean out or lift herself a bit and feel the air rushing past her. A brief moment of consideration brought the decision that unsquishing would be more advantageous, though it wasn't like she had a choice regardless.

Turning her attention to her teammates, the Faunus quietly contemplated their answers. The fact from Rio and the extra fact from their Overseer made Saffron wonder if emigration to Vacuo was popular in the past. It was something she could look into, if not for her own curiosity. Whilst they had brought curiosity, and Kohaku's own fact brought amusement and a smile, what really piqued Saffron's interest was Fiona's fact. Fiona had studied dust before coming here - Saffron wondered if that was a slip up in wordage, or if Fiona had decided to stop that path of study. Perhaps that was what had gotten her into Shade, as Saffron knew that the ranged capabilities of her weapon, Nova Limbo, relied upon the usage of dust. Someone who knew how to use dust efficiently would be a worthy contender in a fight.

However, now it was Saffron's turn to present, the last of the team to do so. As well as pondering the facts of her fellows, she had been thinking up her own fact. "Saffron Rupalfeather is my name," she proclaims loudly, as to make sure that she was audible over the sound of the engine. "I'm the second Huntress in my family tree. My family doesn't believe in the effectiveness of Huntsmen and Huntresses. I'm out to prove them wrong, and enjoy myself along the way. Extra fact, I'm from Vale, and this heat is killing me," she states, before letting herself sink back into her seat a little bit, lifting her legs and resting them on the back of Fiora's seat so the air could get at them a little better.

---

The finest of days in Vacuo always began with sand, sun, some more sand, some more sun, and a good brawl. Naturally, this meet and greet was ideal for Turq Beaufort, who was quite ready for some "fun" in the sun. A smirk crossed the faunus's lips as he put his hands on his belt, the turqoise cylindrical object on it releasing a jagged blade on each side as it was pulled apart. "Turq Beaufort. Born and raised here in lovely Vacuo, and born to make shit suck less for everyone. And, nice pants," Turq would say, before starting to advance. As he had spoken with his weapon drawn he had gradually pulled the cylindrical handles apart, a chain connecting them that Turq lengthened until it was about seven feet in length, hands moving to grasp at just one handle and the chain. "Mindless is a bad way to put it. After all, a huntsman's used to dealing with Grimm rushing 'em. This is more like...four one-man armies," Turq said, hyping himself up as he spun his chain faster and faster.

With a dextrous motion, Turq's right hand shot to the spinning handle and caught it, another flick snapping it to the right at an angle. In that singular arc of motion the blade detached and launched itself, sailing in a wide arc off to the right of the group as it spun and spun, its trajectory aimed right at Auron. Breaking into a sprint with his right hand once again twirling the chain, Turq advanced with an appraising look in his eye. Their instructor was damn tough, but, right now, Turq felt on top of the world. Maybe if they beat the hell out of their instructor now, they'd get to skip past the certification and become Huntsmen right then and there. Seeing victory before he even saw the fight, Turq would maneuver around Veloce and throw his blunted handle directly into the sand before Auron. His intention was to blind their instructor to distract from the rapidly approaching Boomerang, drawn to the handle it had detached from.

Turq grinned as he withdrew his handle, readying himself to attack with the bladed pick while Veloce did his thing. If his plan worked, there would be too many things incoming for Auron to defend himself with his pipe, especially if the sand actually had gotten in his eyes. Actually depending on others for a team play while they had 0 time to get to know each other beyond name was kind of a dumb idea, since it wasn't like they had time to explain the mechanics of their weapons. Much as he hated having his spotlight stolen, Turq could deal with it while this "strongest" pack of lone wolves all raced towards the same target.

Why were they the strongest?

Well, obviously because Turq was in it. And if his boomerang sneak attack worked, that'd just prove once again that he's more than qualified to be a Huntsman. Oscuro was a stepping stone in comparison, whereas taking out a true Huntsman would solidify Turq (and company)'s positions as certified ass-kickers. Besides, with just a pipe, what could one guy do against four!?

Much as Turq liked a good self-introduction, a challenge was being made, and by shade he was going to throw down. Of course this also meant that it'd bruise his ego pretty badly when they all got trumped but hey, it builds character.

---

The sweltering heat bore down on Jet without remorse whilst he rummaged about the pile of junk he and his team now found themselves near - not that he felt much in the way of comradery with these three strangers. Still, at least their little expedition had led him to this wonderful assortment of crap. A Vacuan scrapyard was as close to home as it got for him; a bittersweet reminder of everything he chose to leave behind when he came to Shade. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead whilst squatting amongst the heap. Mostly rusted parts with some Atlesian refuge sprinkled about. A few choice pieces caught his eye, but Jet’s train of thought was derailed by their overseer’s instructions.

Overseer. Jet clicked his tongue, hopping down from the pile to stand beside the other first years. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets whilst sizing up the Huntsman with a callous, sidelong glance. Simply put, Auron was pretty intimidating to the young man. Not that he’d ever admit it. He could tell he meant business, an assumption further proved when he proposed a challenge to the four of them without so much as flinching. Something about it really irked Jet. His words dripped with overconfidence - as if they were mere insects to him. Perhaps that was the case, but it still pissed him off. Caramelle’s query mirrored his own thoughts, but it would seem Turq and Veloce had no need of such clarification.

“Name’s Slate” He drawled, fully aware that Caramelle was probably the only person left to hear him as his more bombastic allies charged headfirst into the fray. Sliding his rifle from the back of his right shoulder into his grip, Jet dragged the weapon along the ground while stepping forward towards their target. Assuming their instructor was now busy dealing with the head on assault, Jet took his time to scan the surroundings for what he thought would make for a suitable perch. A rusted steel beam jutting out from the top of a nearby pile caught his eye. Thrusting out his left arm towards the vantage point triggered a distinct click followed by the affixed, compacted metal claw detaching itself from Jet’s wrist mounted grappling hook with a burst of dust powered propulsion. Latching itself to the steel beam, Jet pulled the wire taut before a similar click reeled the boy skyward with a whirring drone. He pulled himself up onto the beam, giving it a few cursory stomps to test it’s stability. The large, rusted chassis of what he assumed was some kind of crane kept his perch nice and stable. For now anyway.

Taking a knee, Jet raised his rifle in both hands and peered down the sights, flicking his goggles over his eyes with a curt nod. The simple flick of a switch on the side of the firearm saw the barrel extend outwards by a few feet, a few of the parts shifting to compensate for the new weight distribution. The rifle pulsed with energy as Jet felt the lightning dust canisters click into place on the magazine. His breathing stilled, watching the ensuing battle through his visor. His sights set firmly on the metal pipe; or more specifically where Auron was gripping it. Veloce and Turq were too close now to get a clear shot, so he decided to lie in wait until the attacks had resolved themselves. He didn’t consider himself an irrational sort, but there was something tingling within him at the prospect of taking this man down. However faint their chances were, goddamnit he was going to try. He would not be considered the weak link among these other hunters in training.

@Cello@The Irish Tree@Eisenhorn@TGM

Auron didn’t respond to Caramelle’s question, partly because two of her squadmates didn’t give him a chance, but also because it wasn’t his job to answer that question. The test had already begun, and every second mattered. Taking a small step back as Veloce and Turq charged at him, the Huntsman considered the kids he’d been given.

The girl was feisty but cautious, but perhaps to a fault? Might need to work on that, but then again, this team could use some of that.

While in his thoughts, Auron’s body moved almost on its own, tossing the now gilded pipe into the air before answering the Raven boy’s charge with an easy redirection. Rather than block or deflect the lunge, the older man grabbed the gladius by the blade and the boy by the arm, turning with their forward momentum and launching them right into the path of Turq’s projectile attack. This also helped to avoid the attempt to blind him made by the boy, though Auron gave points for creativity and cheeky thinking.

Meanwhile, the two Faunus seem quite the opposite. Headstrong and ready to run in without a second thought. Truly Vacuan, though the boomerang kid seems a bit full of himself. Confidence is great but I think I’ll need to grind that down a tad. If there’s one thing bandits love, it’s an overconfident idiot.

As Turq closes in for a slash with his pick, however, he’d find himself quickly forced to move back as the pipe Auron had thrown in the air suddenly came straight for his head. Rather than landing in the sand, however, the gilded metal scrap would begin to make an elaborate dance of blows against him, striking like a fencer’s blade from nearly every direction to push him away from their overseer, who finally spoke up now that he’d been given some space.

“I’m getting a better idea of you all now. . . and I’ll give you this. Not a total waste and I dare say you might have some tactical know-how amongst you. However,” The man cracks his knuckles in a bit of anticipation, a wave of golden energy flowing over his figure as he gets into a proper fighting stance. “I think I need to show you what a real one-man army looks like. . ."

The pipe attacking Turq flies off, hurtling instead towards Veloce in the air to commit a similar barrage, but Auron made sure the peacock Faunus wasn’t feeling left out as he appears in an instant before him. Dueling the pipe had been challenging, but manageable if he managed to focus on defense, and it was quite likely he’d managed to avoid taking a single solid hit. Against Auron himself, however, the 3 blows that would impact him were too quick to even register. Two blows from cross jabs to the face with enough force to disorient even with his Aura shield up, followed by a flash of green around the Overseer's legs as he lashes out with a front kick to the sternum. A torrent of wind and air pressure would send Turq flying towards Caramelle, revealing the secret of his ‘nice pants’ to them all.

Rather than follow up on the assault, however, Auron simply turns his gaze to Slate’s position, a sharp grin on his features as he makes a gun gesture with his fingers directly at the boy before mouthing the word ‘bang’. Was this going a bit too far? Maybe, but the wastes of Vacuo didn’t have time for people who couldn’t take the heat. They wouldn’t get any coddling from him, and he would make sure they’d be ready for what the land has to offer even if they hated him for it.

@Asura@WXer@datadogie@Hero

“It is a bit hot, isn’t it? I barely notice it most days, but my dad’s lived here for almost thirty years now and still can’t stand it.” Nivea couldn’t help the small chuckle that came after Saffron’s comment on the heat, glad that they had all found something to share. While she had hoped they’d be a bit more talkative, that was probably a bit too much to ask a bunch of kids who barely knew each other. “Though that could just be him being old.”

Nivea continues to chatter a bit as they continue on, mostly just small talk about what’s expected of Vacuan Huntsman, a couple of tips on haggling with a few of the shadier Dust sellers, and was just about to get into a story on how her old team when she noticed a rocky outcrop in the distance. Their destination, she’d explain.

In the shadow of the outcrop, a vault-like metal building seemed to be drilled into the rock, obviously very old and abandoned. The dull white uniformity of the building’s foundations clashed with the chunks of sheet metal, wood, and other scraps that made up what could only be a sort of door. Clearly a replacement, though one that hadn’t proven much use as it lay on the ground in a twisted mess about 3 meters from the building entrance, half-buried by the shifting of the sands. As they got closer, more signs of violence could be seen. Claw marks, dark brown stains, and small bits of white in the sand that could only be bone upon closer inspection.

“These old Atlas bunkers always make for perfect nests, but people never listen. Old grudges and all that. . . ” Nivea explains quietly, her bubbly nature growing a bit more subdued as she came back from the jeep after setting the alarms and kill switch. In her hand was a staff, similar to Kohaku’s but a bit more refined and with a small lantern-like construct held at the top.

Stepping up to the front, Nivea traces her fingers along some of the claw marks, a frown gracing her features as she stares into the dark depths. Hesitation kept her lips shut, and the smell that wafted up from the dark set her fears alight. She'd never forget the first time she faced it, the cold, dank scent of the Grimm. No matter the kind, no matter the type, no matter the place, it was always the same. A cold, penetrating smell of decay and rot that causes every cell in her body to shiver.

They didn’t have to go in, not now. They were just kids, they should probably get a little more training before handling a nest. I can just. . . have them wait out here while I go in and handle this. Or. . .

Nivea shook her head, stopping that thought in its tracks. It was too late for that and she had chosen this mission for a reason. She couldn’t back out now, and she had to trust that they had the skill to handle what was down there. As Huntsman, they would see places like this constantly, and she hoped that bringing them here would motivate them to work hard. To want to stop tragedies like this from taking root.

“This is a test to see how you all do in a hazardous situation. Normally, a Huntsman team would split into teams of two to cover more ground, but since this is your first expedition, we’ll be staying together.” Her tone was firm, brooking no argument nor questions and any hints of the nervous energy she had shown before were nowhere to be found. “Aside from making sure you all don’t get caught in over your heads, I will not be providing any assistance to your search than I feel is necessary as your Overseer.”

“The primary objective is a complete extermination of any of all the Grimm we find within this bunker, though in the . . . unlikely event that we come across any survivors, then we will cancel the operation to get them out. That is true no matter what forms of identifiers we find within the banner.” A nice way of saying even if they’re bandits, as would likely be the case considering the Bunker's location near a popular supply route. While the Huntress held no sympathy for such crooks and criminals, leaving anyone in the company of the creatures of Grimm was not an option she would consider. A belief she wished was more universal amongst some of the other Huntsman of Shade. “From the information of the request, it’s most likely just a pack of Beowolves within, but that doesn’t mean we should be at ease. Any Grimm can be dangerous if underestimated, and what they lack in intelligence is made up for in ferocity.”

“Any questions before we proceed?”

---

"Just had to open your mouth, eh boy wond..ACK!" Veloce had tried to recover from the redirecting throw with a flap of the wings, but rather than taking the boomerang square in the back, in caught him by the legs and promptly sent him tumbling over and into the ground, picking himself up in time to see the whirling pipe after Mr. Ego over there. Proper stance, golden energy, same as the one on the pipe currently assaulting Mr. Ego. A quick scan before launching himself back in had the one kid up on some big piece of scrap, while Shortstop hadn't even engaged yet. Fast lunges would just keep getting him tossed around, and Auron didn't even need to wield a weapon to fight with it. Tricky, but he was practically grinning ear to ear as he readjusted his hat, time for something a bit more thoughtful instead of just mindlessly charging. And by more thoughtful, it meant advancing with another idea in mind. Mostly to make a low flyby, see what Shortstop had in mind and adapt from there.

"And here I thought this was going to be a boring first day of class, that's a clever trick right there! I'll have to remember it." Despite four to one being outclassed, it wasn't even remotely bothering Veloce. Meant this man knew what he was doing, and that was good, least after they were done getting the crap kicked out of them. As he spoke his wings flapped again, kicking up a dust storm via his semblance that intended to obscure the space between him and the Overseer. Unlike before, however, he wasn't just going to come barreling out of the dusty cloud trying to get thrown again, this time hurtling at a low ascending angle, no longer having the gauntlet and gladius out, instead carrying Mocking Bird in its ranged form, a bayoneted shotgun. He was cranking off shotgun blasts as fast as he could work the action as he did a low fly by from what would be the Overseer's left if he were to face Veloce head on. Since Mr. Ego had gotten launched, that meant no worries about friendly fire, and throwing someone into gunfire was a lot less easy than a slower moving boomerang. Boomerangs, really, they had guns for a reason!

The entire time he would be in the air he was watching for an opening to swoop in and strike, Veloce didn't exactly like just hanging back and firing off buckshot, and he doubted it would work terribly well in the long term. Even if he had to just move in and make his own opening, or prevent Mr. Ego or Shortstop from possibly getting the ever living crap kicked out of them by this 'nice pants', well, they were a team. Still, he wasn't keen on rushing in again until after the next attacks so he didn't get lobbed into another boomerang. "Oi, Mr. Ego, explain to me later why your throwing around a damn boomerang, yeah?!"

---

A nod and a smile were the only assurances of attention Rio could offer to each of them during this turbulent time, his headache moving up in the world to become full blown nausea. Who knew that the desert heat only made motion sickness worse? Certainly not him, though it only made the young Huntsman a lot more appreciative of the conversation taking place as it provided him with something to focus on. He took note of what each of his companions had shared about themselves and found some common ground to the shared details: Fiona's studious diligence, Saffron's unprecedented undertaking with regards to familial legacy, and even Kohaku's lack of access to the luxury known as soda. These folks were alright in his book.

As they approached the bunker, the old war stories about his great grandpa began to flood back into the forefront of his mind. It had been some time since his mother had last told these anecdotes to Rio before his bedtime but the exciting adventures of the brave Vacuan rebels against Atlas imperialists always brought a smile to his face. This derelict site, however, did not bring any promise of exhilaration though it was going to be an adventure of sorts as Miss Lanatae described the expectations of their first ever mission as a team.

"Well, I'm no stranger to pest control. Never went out looking for Grimm inside caverns though." he would state after their accompanying Overseer finished laying out the details. Truth be told, he was more concerned about the state of the abandoned tunnels moreso than the reported Beowolves. Poison gas buildup, structure collapse cave-ins, dormant security systems, hidden bandit hideouts. These were just some of the few dangers that his uncle Mar Redcliffe had warned him of when spelunking, each one supposedly more dangerous than the last. Yet, those tales of caution weren't suppose to scare him. Quite the opposite, they were meant to make him aware of the real dangers a Huntsman would face in the wilderness.

As Rio contemplated on what obstacles they'd encounter inside, Kohaku had suggested a reasonable approach to their task. "Don't doubt yourself, miss Kohaku." he would state, noticing the stutter at the end of her statements. "Maybe we won't have ten paces between us 'nd the wall but I might be able to hold off the Grimm at that distance." Unloading his weapon from the back of the vehicle, Rio would display the Boatman's Due's full glory in its halberd mode. If they truly didn't have space to move around, least he could take point effectively and make sure their predators will think twice lest they impale themselves on his blade.

---

If Nivia's father couldn't stand the heat after almost thirty years, it left Saffron wondering how she was going stand it during her time at Shade Academy, and perhaps longer if she chose to stay in Vacuo once her training was complete and she became a certified Huntress, which she knew she was going to accomplish. Staying in Vacuo was appealing in some ways, yet she felt that she could always go back to Vale afterwards with better skills from an arguably better training experience than she would have had if she had stayed home. She would have to see how she felt after the next few years, because whilst she knew that she would push through and complete her training to the end, it was also a very long time before that would happen.

Saffron's thoughts began to subside as they drove into view of the vault-like building. The Faunus moved her hands to the back of Fiona's chair to support herself as she stood up to get a better view over the heads of the pair riding in the front. It wasn't exactly the best of things to do on the bumpy ride, but Saffron made it work, despite the fact that their ride was going to be over in a few moments anyhow. She gripped the shoulders of the seat in front of her as the jeep came to a halt in order to steady herself, and promptly climbed over the side to escape the confines of the vehicles so that she wasn't squished in any more. Added to that was the satisfaction of not having her tail squished in the seat any more, either. Her eyes, however, did return to fixate upon the Atlas Bunker in her attempt to analyse what Nivea was saying to the team of students.

A nest being within made sense. Whilst the vault itself would likely be a little more than warm if the power was out and the air inside being made cool, it was shelter from the elements, such as the harsh sunlight and perhaps sandstorms. It made sense that anyone or anything, such as the Grimm, would take shelter inside. Whilst the Grimm were currently taking up residence, nobody knew if someone else was hiding inside before the Beowolves - if that's what was really inside - had set up shop. Saffron's imagination drifted to the thought of someone locking themselves in a room, their own fear of the Grimm outside keeping them trapped due to their Grimm's natural sensitivity to fear. It wasn't a good image, and Saffron shook her head, redirecting her thoughts to something more useful; Namely, the comments of her teammates.

Drawing Nova Limbo, Saffron gave it a little twirl, a little show of her dexterity but also an act to unclog it from any sand it may have picked up during their journey. Due to the environment that the bunker was bound to be, Saffron would likely be keeping Nova Limbo in it's sword configuration, and sand wouldn't affect it's operation. The problem came with the transforming capabilities of the weapon - a large amount of sand being trapped within the mechanisms would definitely not be great for their performance, and a few times already Saffron had found herself cleaning the weapon. A quick shake would usually loosen things up enough, but she had a feeling it was only a matter of time before a deep clean was required.

With that in mind Saffron gave the sword a final twirl, listening to Rio as he told Kohaku not to doubt herself, and then proceeded to point at him, using the sword as an extension of her pointing arm. "Can't wait to see you clanging off the walls in there," she jokes, indicating at his weapon. "Don't worry though, if you want to go in front, I'll be right behind you to catch the ones that slip through," Saffron adds with a grin. She didn't actually know if it would be tight in the bunker or not, but she partially hoped so, so that her joke about him clanging his halberd on the walls became a reality. Safely, of course.

---

‘Bang.’

The ensuing retaliation of their Overseer had definitely taken Jet by surprise. He didn’t doubt the geezer’s ability, but he hadn’t quite expected him to come out of that assault without so much as a scratch. The gesture towards his vantage point was the icing on the cake.

“Real funny, gramps.” He muttered, keeping Auron locked in his sights. Damn that grin was an eyesore. A momentary glance towards the others kept him up to speed on their movements. Caramelle’s improvised launch pad garnered a curt snort. He didn’t bother to check on Turq; he was probably fine. Veloce seemingly didn’t fancy another embarrassing display and was laying low, figuratively speaking. So the bird flies, huh? Credit where credit is due; that was cool as hell. His sights fixated back on the exchange between Auron and Caramelle. She was fast, he’d give her that. Yet if the last attempt to rush down their tutor was any indication, she’d need a little backup.

Aiming his rifle lower, Jet locked in on Auron’s back leg. Firing almost seemed hopeless at this point, a mere annoyance to the veteran more than anything. Though maybe that was all that was needed to gain the upper hand - or at the very least ensure someone smacked the smug bastard in his stupid face. Jet’s breathing slowed right down whilst he watched the openings between Caramelle’s strikes. Timing each attack from another, he waited until one looked like it had a decent chance of landing and squeezed the trigger. A deafening crack ran throughout the yard, a sound Jet had become so accustomed to over the years that it barely registered anymore. The shot fired with such intense impact and velocity the hot desert air seemed to warp around it’s trail. Electricity danced along the barrel, still aimed at Auron whilst Jet primed his next shot. The casing rattled off the steel beam and became another addition to the mountain of junk.

Whether the shot landed didn't matter so much to Jet. Not really. It was more his way of letting Auron know he wouldn't simply be ignored. Taking a moment to lower his rifle, he waited until the next chance he could catch Auron’s gaze. Raising his arm into a familiar gun point, he returned the earlier gesture the Overseer had found so amusing. Accompanied by a singular, mimicked phrase.

‘Bang.’

---

Turq wasn't a complete and utter stranger to losing in a fight. But he was a stranger to getting his ass absolutely beat by a pipe. Like, not a guy with a pipe, just a pipe that decided to bibbidy bobbidy boo its way into being a fighter on par with him. Taken aback by the sudden lack of a person to actually hit, Turq was left confused and on the backpedal as he fought the pipe off, so caught up in it that he didn't think about the fact that his boomerang hadn't returned yet. It would eventually though, sliding along the sand towards his handle while he fought off the pipe, only for their new teacher to turn his attention to Turq.

Turq would raise his arms to defend himself, only to find his eyes forced to close from the blows to his face. Something...no, someone, with very green pants had knocked the wind out of him before he even had a chance to put up his guard. Suddenly the sky was all that Turq could see as he was sent flying, mouth agape as his senses finally caught up to him. Just in time for his bruised sternum to promptly get used as a springboard for the shrimp of a girl on their team. Skidding a few times across the sand from the force of the impact, Turq would land head first and swallow at least a mouthful of sand as his jaw slammed into the ground.

Shaking his head and steadily rising, one eye shut tight after sand had got in it. "The hell kind of question is that!? Why a boomerang? I'll tell you why!" he shouted, whipping his picks around before the boomerangs detached, a tangible connection forming between the center of the 'rangs and Turq's aura. A hand moved from his chain to his hair, slicking it back a bit to fix the damage done after getting slammed into the ground. "Because boomerangs are cool! And bullets are expensive!"

With his doctorate paper published verbally the faunus would charge forward, the boomerangs spinning relatively quickly in an orbit around him, held in their rotation by his semblance as he once more tried to attack their teacher, this time only having his blunt handles and his boomerang orbiters. He'd be mindful to not get too close to the others, using his handles as thrown projectiles in-between the rhythmic turning of his boomerangs. He would also briefly remember being stepped on, but figured that could wait until after they won. Now that he knew to keep his guard up, there was no way for their instructor to waltz through his patented "Cyclone Ripper Ultra Deluxe Supreme Tyrant Killer Defense Field". No way whatsoever!

@Cello@The Irish Tree@Eisenhorn@TGM

“Nice form there Caramelle,” A small chuckle comes from the veteran Huntsman as the mirthless girl launches off her squadmate, his hand shimmering with a faint golden light. “Though you seem to not be much of a team player, huh?”

With a casual air, he deflects each shot that the girl sends his way but lets out a whistle as she closes the gap, no time left to continue the playful banter before he begins to bob and weave through her focused assault. Each strike she launches his way is read seconds in advance, and despite her impressive bursts of speed, never once does she score anything more than a glancing blow. Auron notes the way she constantly tries to circle to his flanks, watching and waiting for an opening to strike.

She’s aggressive, a bit churlish, and definitely needs to work on her attitude if that stunt with Turq was anything to go by, but there is potential here. Auron ponders as he deflects another blow, almost dancing around her blades, seeming to have no trouble reading his students. Even Turq’s own attack from behind didn’t phase the man, the gilded pipe that Veloce had evaded coming back to terrorize the poor boy once more by deflecting his attacks. A bit too reliant on her semblance, however, as I can tell from these strikes that her Aura application is under-developed. Not uncommon for students with strong semblances, but still something that I’ll need to correct. Turq needs to borrow some of her restraint and she needs some of his light-hearted enthusiasm. But overall, good kids who have good heads on their shoulders.

The exchange of blows continues as Auron starts to take more aggressive action, though rather than striking his students, mostly to make them aware of the gaps in their styles without breaking them out of the flow. . . but also to tease them a little bit. Keep them from getting too big for their britches, though to their credit, he didn’t find too many opportunities to sneak them in. Between Caramelle constantly probing his defenses and Turq’s almost mindless barrage from afar, he wasn’t too ashamed to admit he felt a bit pressured. It took all of his attention to keeping ahead of them, and if they were able to coordinate their blows better, he might not have been able to achieve even that.

And then he heard it.

The sharp electrical crack from the distance, ringing out across the clearing, followed soon after by a sharp metallic clang as two pieces of scrap metal flew upward into the air. Slate’s shot had landed true, the power behind it lessened by the interdiction of the gilded pipe, though as the two pieces landed in the sand by a crouching Auron, one might notice the golden luster fading back into dull rusted grey of scrap iron.

Right. . . got too cocky and forgot the sniper. Guess even I have things to work on. Auron chides himself even as he raises up his arm to fully block the next strike from Caramelle. However, before he could rebuke it, an impact hit him in the back of his head, knocking the Huntsman off balance and leaving an opening for the second strike to strike true. And so it went that the two students engaging their teacher directly would press their advantage, now landing solid blows and forcing him to properly block their combined assault. For a brief moment, they seemed to have him on the backfoot.

Auron was not one to simply sit back and let them keep control of the fight, however, quickly moving to grab one of Caramelle’s blades with his bare hands, blocking a strike from Turq’s boomerang with the other before preparing to launch a swift blow to the girl’s gut.

Good showing, kids, but if you think that’s all it takes to get the be-

A sudden bang, and what felt like a horse kicking him in the ribs, broke his train of thought. Veloce had found his own opportunity to assist, sweeping in from his vantage to land a near-point-blank shot into Auron’s side. The force of it sent the man flying across the clearing, tumbling end over end for a moment before coming to a stop.

Silence would reign over the scrapyard as the workers, who had been cheering and applauding the whole spar, grew silent. All eyes stared at Auron as he got up to one knee, his breathing coming out in a bit of a wheeze.

“Heh. . . not bad for a bunch of brats.”

@Asura@WXer@datadogie@Hero

The Huntress takes a silent sigh of relief as her students show no true apprehension towards the task laid before them, instead quickly moving to discuss the formation they’d take upon heading inside. Nivea waits patiently for them to settle on their plan of attack and, once that is done, steps to the side to allow Rio to lead them onward. As the ground heads into the depths of the bunker, she taps her staff, the lantern-like apparatus lights up with flame, a light to guide them through the dark. As they march forth, she strode behind them in relative silence.

The shift in the air was instant, the sweltering noonday heat turning to a grave-like chill. In the flickering light of Nivea’s lantern, they could see more remnants of the bunker’s former inhabitants. Ancient Atlesian desks, chairs, and crates repurposed into ramshackle barricades facing the door, with the seats of cars and ratty threadbare blankets marked out when may have been a guard post. As it had been outside, the interior shows clear signs of the Grimm raid, dark stains coating everything and the deep gouges of claws covering the floor.

Past the first room and into the bunker proper, they’d descend a flight into a labyrinth-like maze within. In every room they searched, they found the same miss-match of bandit-modified lodging, vandalized or repurposed atlesian wreckage, and many signs of violence. There was never a body, however. Bloodstains a plenty but despite Nivea’s concerns, they see no corpses even as the group pushes further into the depths. At a certain point, she’d allow them to spread out a bit more, do some investigation of their own before moving on.

On the second level is when the signs of Grim habitation became more prevalent, the chill in the air growing more intense as if the heat was being sapped from your body. Tendril-like growths spread along the walls now, radiating a chilling aura around them as they emit a dull, pulsing red glow. Every so often as they pass down hallways, thick piddles of black sludge could be seen, the slick tendrils seeming to rise up out of them and cling to any nearby surface.

As they exit one such hallway into a three-way intersection, a noise echoes from the two side passages up ahead. An almost laugh, where the pitch shifts between far too high and much too low, ringing out in a strange hitching pattern. And it was not alone, as more and more of these haggard, inhuman sounds join the first. From the shadows ahead of them, red eyes fade into sight. Stepping into the dim light to reveal glistening black bodies and cold ivory masks that they all recognize in an instant.

A creature of Grimm.

The onslaught came swiftly after that, the first set of monsters rushing forth to attack Rio with slavering jaws and wicked claws in a pincer-like formation. Behind them, more assailants surge forth, drawn by the sounds of their fellows being whipped into a bloody frenzy. Like a tide of black, they came to crash against Team Frisk, their endless hunger seeking to swallow them all up in a moment. And from behind the Team, Nivea stands resolute and impassive. She watches and waits, hands gripping her staff so hard that her knuckles turn white in an effort to stop herself from interfering in the test. They had to handle this by themselves.